Willem Martinovic arrived early at Hagia Sophia along with Afran. The queue for entry was long and the security checks kept its progress to little more than a halting shuffle even though it included some VVIPs. But Will’s Eastnet lanyard got him into the great mosque alongside Afran, who gave him a quick kiss before seeking out his mother, Queen Rozhin, in the gallery erected for the attending royalty. Will for his part sought out the Eastnet crew and Henry Atwood, in the press gallery. The dome echoed with the hubbub of the throng below. Henry sat Willem beside him at the Eastnet monitor and the pair fitted and tested the head mic through which Henry would offer his commentary.
‘I watched your presentation of the 2005 Eurovision Song Contest, sir. And the commentaries you offered for the 2006 and 2007 contests. They’re back up on the rebooted YouTube.’
‘Oh yeah?’ said the little man.
‘You were impressive, sir. Casually witty and apparently off the cuff, but tell me, did you have script ideas prepared?’
Henry shot a quirky glance at the boy. ‘Nope. It was as extemporaneous as it looked. Which probably accounted for the reception by the audience in 2005. They could tell I was winging it and might very easily fall to the ground at any point. There was an anxious edge of impending disaster in the event, which the audience muffled with relieved laughter when it didn’t actually happen.’
‘But Starcrossed’s on—stage kiss wasn’t your fault, sir. And you rode above it.’
‘One of the worst moments of my broadcasting career, son. Not that I wasn’t glad for the boys at one level, but I feared for Strelsenermedia that night if the EBU had decided to retaliate. Fortunately, they did not. And Conchita Wurst made it all irrelevant in 2014, winning the contest for Alternative Sexuality as much as Austria, blowing those gates apart.’
‘Starcrossed went on to great things, sir. Classical performance stars in Paris, London and New York, and the staging of Rothenian operas and symphonies that have taken the musical world by storm.’
‘The boys did good, and will go on to do more, I do not doubt. Yuli is now the master of the music of the chapel of King Maxim, the most musical king Rothenia has ever had. We are looking at a golden age dawning, I think.’ Henry gave a momentary strange smile, and changed the subject. ‘Rudi is at present hearing mass down in the Catholic vicariate of the Holy Spirit. There will be no religious element in the ceremony up here of course, and likewise there will be no element of a consecration down there, though I believe a Te Deum will be sung and the Orthodox Oecumenical Patriarch will offer prayers.’
‘He’s walking up through the city to get here, sir? I bet the security people are having kittens.’
Henry shrugged. ‘Ed is saying the temperature of the city is pretty cool in that regard. There’s not even much local irritation with the official renaming of Istanbul as New Constantinople. The local Greeks love it of course, but even the Turks think it’s a welcome return to the city’s imperial past. Most of all the Oecumene is good news here. The city’s government is honest and efficient under the empire, tourists are returning and new employment is increasing as world bureaux and major corporations open up their offices and hubs here. The Rothenian language is a growth subject in the local schools, though the official local languages for the Oecumene in the province of Thrace are and will remain Turkish and Greek. The Black Sea is a concern, but the Turks and Kurds are taking the piracy problem seriously.’ Henry shot a glance at Will. ‘These are questions that your Afran must be thinking hard about.’
Will frowned. ‘He doesn’t discuss them with me, Henry. He usually says that that’s for his government to worry about. He’s right of course, but I point out how King Rudolf when he ruled in Rothenia had a very hands-on attitude to policy when he felt it was going adrift and his governments had lost the plot.’
Henry grinned. ‘I had that very conversation with him when we were boys just after he’d been crowned king. He was quite the student of the reign and politics of the first King Maxim back in the early twentieth century. He said it was an object lesson on what to do and not to do as a constitutional monarch. Old King Maxim was a far better politician than any of his chancellors in terms of vision and policy. But he wouldn’t play their games, and sat silent but fuming in his office in the Osraeum rather than do anything unconstitutional. It was only when Chancellor Beck was revealed to be a traitor conspiring with the German military that the king did finally make a move, and was then revealed to everyone who doubted that he was as brave, brilliant and decisive as any Elphberg king has ever been, Maxim the Great as many now call him.’
Willem grinned. ‘Which is why I always assumed King Rudolf named his son and heir, Maxim. He modelled his own rule on the great Maxim, his forbear and inspiration.’
Henry shrugged. ‘There were other reasons, of course. The prophecy of the Golden Elphberg said he was to be “greatest in name”, which in Latin is maximus. And King Maxim is undoubtedly the long-awaited Golden Elphberg.’
Willem pondered a while in quiet, as he looked around the great space and the colourful and uniformed crowd. ‘There’s King James of Canada, sir,’ he observed. ‘Just to prove that great kings are not always people of prophecy. No one expected what he achieved after the Second American Civil War broke out, and the republic collapsed. He’d only been wearing the Maple Crown for a year when he marched his army into the Midwest and then New England and ousted the Theocrats from Chicago, Boston and New York.
‘He had every reason to, sir. The Theocrats did not disguise that annexing Canada was their eventual plan, and their troops’ appalling conduct in the Northern cities they seized convinced the populations that a constitutional, liberal monarchy was a better guardian of their freedoms than a defective and discredited constitution.’
‘So two British-born princes have saved the western hemisphere, Rudolf of Rothenia and James of Canada.’ Henry gave a broad smile, ‘Just saying. A pity the old country didn’t make a bigger contribution itself, though English ships and troops did help oust the American Theocrats from Greenland and restore it to Denmark.’
‘Rudolf Elphberg can’t be everywhere,’ said Will, with a grin. ‘Which I guess is why the Oecumene needs James and my Afran.’
Henry favoured Will with a long, considering glance. ‘You are a bit impressive, kid. Not many teenagers could be so acute in their analyses. Is it Prince Afran’s influence I’m seeing?’
Will chuckled. ‘He’s an education to be around, it’s true. We have talked about his role in the Oecumene and its future governance. He has ideas. Good ones.’
‘Tell me more, if you can,’ Henry urged.
‘No problem. His big enthusiasm at the moment, which he shares with James of Canada, is a chamber of princes to be set up in New Constantinople, to advise the emperor in the policy of the Oecumene. It’ll be a means to exert national voices at the heart of the empire, a place for the kings, khans and grand dukes to meet and discuss their world and its problems.’
‘I get it, Will. Like a cross between the old United Nations and a parliamentary House of Lords. So does Rudi know that his cousin James has this in mind for him?’
Will shrugged. ‘Dunno. He wouldn’t tell me even if he knew. He can be irritatingly discreet, can my Afran.’
Henry favoured the boy with a warm smile. ‘I think you two are destined to have a very happy marriage. Do you want Eastnet to cover it, or not? I can arrange it either way.’
‘That’s kind, sir. There are advantages in marrying out of the limelight. It will happen in Strelzen, we’ve decided. In our first year at the Technische. It’ll be a civil ceremony. Maybe something more ceremonial at a later date in Rum. Did you have a civil ceremony, sir?’
‘Well yes, but not in Strelzen. We had it on the royal estate at Zenda, courtesy of King Rudi.’
Will raised an eyebrow. ‘The place with the beautiful Disneyfied castle on the lake? Very romantic.’ Henry gave a little laugh.‘It wasn’t the castle so much as the Thuringian mausoleum which attracted us.’ Observing the boy’s surprise, he added. ‘It has a tomb which really is hyper-romantic … the burial place of Prince Leopold of Thuringia, the war hero, and his life-long lover, Sir Martin Tofts, the archeologist. If you ever go down there to see it, you’ll understand. Your Starcrossed uncle Roman Staufer von Ebersfeld, sang for us that day under the dome. So it was all very special. My father, who’s the Anglican bishop of Eastern Europe, gave me and Ed a blessing the next day.’
Will’s face fell a little. ‘Religion isn’t likely to be our friend in the Kingdom of Rum, sir,’ he observed. ‘Once people there work out what Afran and I mean to each other, the problems may well begin.’
***
Henry could follow the progress of the procession up from the lower city on his monitors. As the cheers in the streets outside began to penetrate Hagia Sophia, Eastnet’s producer counted Henry in. He grinned as he noted that Rudi’s procession reached the great doors at the precise moment his Edward’s timetable had laid down it should. He made a mental note to thank Ed for making his job easier. It would please him.
‘Prosim i nhi. This is Henry Atwood from New Constantinople on the morning when Rudolf Elphberg is to be proclaimed Emperor of the Oecumene.’ Henry paused as a resounding fanfare sounded in the great space beneath the dome, echoing and re-echoing before a profound silence fell. Rudolf was garbed in a striking white uniform trimmed with gold, and on his head had been placed a gilded garland wreath, like those Roman caesars had once worn.
Henry had been privy to the discussions of what sort of headwear would be appropriate to a twenty-first century Elphberg emperor. He had belonged to the party which advocated a facsimile of the ancient crown of the Holy Roman Emperor. But this had been overruled by the historians of the Rudolfer Universität, who argued that the idea of emperors was older by far than Christianity, and in any case the world-embracing nature of the Oecumene meant allusions to one particular faith in its insignia and ceremonial should be avoided. The result was a diadem that recalled the days of Augustus Caesar, rather than Charlemagne.
In silence, the prince and his escort walked slowly across to the patterned marble Omphalion, which was now where the medieval high seat of the Rothenians was set up, brought down from the cathedral of Strelzen, where it was usually housed for the coronations of Elphbergs. King Maxim had insisted that it be used in the ceremonial around his father’s elevation, as an acknowledgement of the ancient royal standing of their family and the central place of the Rothenian people in the new world order.
King Maxim and his brother Prince Leopold walked behind their father, dressed also in white. Maxim’s golden head was crested with a royal circlet that day, but not the Crown of Tassilo. It was instead one of the Victorian coronets used by the great Queen Flavia in her day, as Henry knowledgeably informed Eastnet’s domestic audience. It fit his adolescent head quite neatly, he observed. It was Queen Harriet’s suggestion. Henry heard Will snigger behind him.
The emperor-elect reached the foot of the steps to the high throne, he smiled at his sons and carefully climbed to his seat, turned and settled himself. The proclamation address in Latin and Greek was delegated to the cardinal who had been sent from Rome to represent the Pope at the ceremony. King James of Canada, as the most senior monarch of the Oecumene, the first indeed to align with Rothenia in the new world alliance offered the translation. He spoke in English. The Oecumene had no official language but most assumed it would end up being Rothenian, if anything.
‘Fellow monarchs and citizens of the Oecumene, we stand here today in this sacred space in this city of emperors to proclaim that the high and mighty prince, Rudolf Robert Maxim, sometime King of Rothenia and now called Prince of Elphberg, is to be our emperor and overlord. His lineage is as distinguished as any king has ever boasted. He is of the house of Henry I the Lion, Rudolf III the Peacemaker, Henry II the Learned, Flavia the Beloved and Maxim I the Great, virtuous and noble rulers all, though none of them holding sway over an empire. Rudolf Elphberg ascends to the state of emperor today not through hereditary right, but for the same reasons the first of the emperors of the West, Augustus Caesar, assumed his principate: his commitment to the commonweal, his ability to lead his people to greater things than had ever been seen before in human history, and his steadfast moral compass. These have been amply attested by his acts and policies, both as king and as victor in the late struggle with the Black Horde from the East. The Empire of the Oecumene has come into being in response to the exigencies of this victory and the policies set in motion by the former Treaty organisation of which the said Rudolf Elphberg was commander and head. Accordingly I, James the Third, by the Grace of God, King of Canada, Alaska and North America, do proclaim that our sovereign lord, the high and mighty prince Rudolf Elphberg is rightly, duly, by the decision of the congress of nations called the North Atlantic Treaty Organisation, and by the manifest disposition of God, Emperor of the Oecumene of Humanity. May God preserve his Imperial Majesty.’
A huge fanfare and cheer marked that ringing declaration. Then in solemn silence one by one the kings and princes of the Oecumene bore the banners of their realms to the emperor, starting with his son and heir, the king of Rothenia, each sovereign prince handing his banner to an attendant soldier and kissing the emperor’s hand.
The ceremony did not end there, but the remainder was a sequence of speeches and endorsements from leading politicians and a few historians drafted in to contextualise the event. Henry’s comment on the last one to his viewers was that ‘it probably would have gone down better with a Powerpoint.’ Willem sniggered again behind him. The event wrapped up as the new emperor descended from his throne and was escorted by his attendant monarchs to the main doors, where cars awaited to whisk them all to the Feriye Palace where there was to be a Proclamation Banquet.
***
Will found Afran talking to his mother at the reception. Queen Rozhin smiled when she saw him, which was encouraging. She extended an arm and offered a kiss, which was a first, and she kept his hand. ‘Willem, it really is time we talked,’ she said.
‘Er … should I be worried?’ he replied.
The queen laughed. ‘No, Willem. Of course not. But maybe I have not so far been as openly positive as I should have been about your relationship with my son. So let me say now that you are good for each other, and I support your plan to marry.’
‘Thank you, your majesty.’
‘Call me Rozhin, dear boy. You have conducted yourself very well towards my son, but the time has come for some serious talk about what will happen next. In a week Afran is to be invested as king in Nikaea, and then things are going to get … difficult.’
‘How so?’ Will had to ask.
It was Afran who answered. ‘We don’t have any worries about the attitude of the population of Rum, so far. The polls indicate that they are very much in favour of the Oecumene and are embracing the idea of a Turkish monarchy, even though it will be assumed by a Kurdish boy. History is being our friend here. The late republic and the old Osmanoğlu dynasty left no positive legacy to embrace, and so the people are willing to give me a chance, especially as mother’s conduct and record have made her a formidable guarantor of future peace in the region. But there have been new developments.’
‘What’s happened?’
Queen Rozhin frowned as she took up the question. ‘Will, your mother was in charge of the investigation of the attempted assassination of Afran in Strelzen and who it was who lay behind it. She did her usual thorough job and turned up a rather more sinister conspiracy than just dispossessed and frustrated Ottoman princes. Now, she has good contacts in the new kingdom of Serbia, do you know why?’
Will grinned a little proudly. ‘Yeah I do. Her battle group drove the Horde out of Belgrade, and she installed Prince Stefan Karageorgovic as interim head of state, thwarting a Bulgarian attempt to add eastern Serbia and Macedonia to their restored empire. She was very decisive.’
Rozhin grinned, ‘She routed a Bulgarian force three time the size of her Rothenian brigade and captured their self-proclaimed Czar, and on top of that she, King Lajos Hapsburg of Hungary and General Cornish promptly arbitrated a successful restructure of the Balkan monarchies that brought Serbia, Croatia, Bosnia, Macedonia, Albania, Bulgaria and Greece into the Oecumene, and paved the way for the seizure of Constantinople.’
‘So where does Serbia come into things?’ Will asked.
Queen Rozhin answered. ‘King Stefan II of Serbia has been busy and successful purging former racist and extremist groups from Serbian political life, not least those who were tied to the former Russian GRU and FSB missions in his kingdom. But he also found that agents of the current Russian autocracy have maintained these links and were reviving Russian plans for a pan-Slavic hegemony in opposition to the rising Oecumene. King Stefan reached out to General Cornish with his concerns and an exchange of data has revealed that the agents Prince Suleiman had employed to procure the assassination of Afran were in fact provided by the Russian Federation. They are emerging as the new agents of chaos in the region.’
‘What do they want with us?’
The queen looked ferocious. ‘What they’ve fitfully fought for since the time of the old Romanov Czars: control of the Black Sea and the Balkans, with behind it Russia’s ancient claim to be the successor state of the Byzantine empire and its claims down to the Holy Places and across to Persia. The Oecumene stands in its way, so the Russian gangster state is deploying its assets in a shadow hybrid war, the way it tried to bring down the former Western bloc. There will be a reckoning one day soon, or so I hope. They face Rothenians now, a far more potent Slavic people than those they have intimidated and subverted in the past, and more fit for pan-Slavic leadership than any Russian autocracy.’
Afran mused along the same lines. ‘They can already see this happening, perhaps. Russian influence in the Balkans is no longer what it was. So they’re looking for any opening, and that includes destabilising Anatolia. The pirate activity in the Black Sea is being directed covertly from Moscow and the raids along the Georgian and Kurdish coasts are more than simple brigandage. They seek to disrupt the recovering regional economies and spread disillusion with the Oecumene. The former Horde satraps in Crimea and the Caucasus are still there but now answer to the Russians, to whom they have pledged their allegiance. Moscow was happy enough to deal with Malik-Rammu when he was in the ascendant and crushing the west. Now they are seeking to pick up the pieces of his evil empire.’
Will pondered these revelations, with growing alarm. To discover that he and his happy romance with a boy he loved were the targets of sinister global forces was both disheartening and scary. He looked at the woman destined to be his mother-in-law. ‘What do we do, Rozhin?’
***
The convoy of vehicles that ferried Afran and Will from New Constantinople to Nikaea (or İznik as it was more recently known) gave Will the disinct impression that the government of the Oecumene expected trouble. Five trucks were carrying a company of Rothenian infantry, in the front one of which was riding General Martinovica. She had winked at her son as they loaded up and said, ‘Rum has no royal army as yet, so the emperor is loaning you some reliable uniformed bodies. No need to worry.’
Queen Rozhin was already in the town, with a full regiment of Kurdish infantry along with General Cornish and some of the cavalry of the Imperial Guard, since Emperor Rudolf would be presiding at the ceremony.
The looming Bursa mountains ahead of them were suddenly around them, and a great blue lake opened to their left. ‘Nice,’ said Will. ‘Reminds me of Lake Maresku back home.’
‘Not been there yet,’ commented Afran, ‘I think it’s what made this place so attractive to the Greeks and Romans. The town’s at the east end. Mum’s secured us a nice little villa by the lakeside. Our first home.’ Afran grinned and kissed Will’s cheek.
The convoy pulled in at the roadside near the entrance to the town, at a pull-in where a track ran down towards the lake. They had been flagged down by a party of Kurdish military police. Its commander opened Afran’s door and bowed the prince out. Will scrambled to follow. The conversation was in Kurdish, but Will got the gist of it. Their assigned villa was down the track, and had been secured by the police. General Martinovica sauntered over and added to the conversation, in unexpectedly fluent Kurdish.
‘Want to come see, Will?’ Afran winked. ‘We don’t need to go into town as yet. Your mum says it’s alright.’
Will had no objection, so he and Afran headed down the track, their bags being hauled down by the police. The general returned to the convoy and headed off into the town. It was quiet down by the lakeside, whose blue waters sparkled on the other side of a line of trees and bushes. The villa was an ochre-rendered three-storey building of few pretensions, whose back faced towards the lake. ‘It’s called “Göl Kenarındaki”, and was confiscated by the local Horde governor while they ruled here, but no one can now be found to return it to. Since we are now in the Oecumene, the local government of Nikaea has taken a nominal lease on it, and indeed pays a small rent into a fund, which will be paid over to anyone who comes forward with a lawful claim on the house.’
‘I approve,’ Will nodded. ‘So it’s our home?’
‘For now. Like it?’
‘I like the site. Let’s go down to the lake.’
The two walked past an olive grove down the flinty track which led to a small pier projecting from the lake’s bank. Tall reedbeds spread out to either side of the pier, dry and occasionally rattling in the light breeze. ‘The lake was anciently called Ascania, from its ruler, who in the days of the Trojan Wars supported King Priam against the Greeks.’ Afran grinned. ‘It was young King Maxxie who told me that. That boy has the weirdest memory for historical and literary trivia, you know.’
‘Look at all the birds!’ Will remarked.
‘It’s got flamingos and pelicans I heard,’ Afran said, then raised a scornful eyebrow at a line of very common mallards quacking past them. ‘Okay, Will. We can come down here later. I bet it’s cool in the evening. James and Jason are coming over. They said they’d bring a bottle. Our first guests!’
Copyright © 2025 Michael Arram
Posted 13 September 2025